


Stars In Your Skin

by jawbonesandjumpers



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alien AU, Alternate Universe, Gen, alien!Sherlock, alienlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 21:35:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2826908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jawbonesandjumpers/pseuds/jawbonesandjumpers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is a little shit. But at the end of the day, he has a big heart – three in fact.</p>
<p>A mishmash of some of my favorite alienlock headcanons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stars In Your Skin

**Author's Note:**

> These headcanons aren't mine, I've just seen them all over tumblr and I felt inspired.  
> Unbeta'd once again, please feel free to point out any errors.

“Sherlock!”

The alien in question blinked all six of their eyes, their long, rabbit-like ears falling flat. They looked down at the floor, began to squeak and click quietly.

“Oh no you don’t! Don’t you dare bat those doe eyes at me!”

The soft clicking turned into the agitated kind.

John looked up at the ceiling, threw his hands in the air and shook his head. “How many times do I have to tell you that just because you can climb on the ceiling doesn’t mean you can make a mess up there! What is that,” he cried, pointing at some crusty yellow stain, “Is that _mustard_? For God’s sake, stop eating up there!”

Sherlock crossed their arms, huffed, then ran across the room and scurried up the wall.  
“No! No, stop that! Sherlock, you come down here this instant!” He cried out again when Sherlock began to chip at the ceiling with a butter knife. “Stop! Stop that, you arse! So help me, I will get a stool and _drag_ you down!”

The alien only continued to shower paint chips on the very small, very angry human.

 

 

~ - - - - ~

 

 

Squirrels.

There were squirrels everywhere. Across the floor. On the couch cushions. Scaling the walls. In the kitchen. Rolling about the sugar bowl.

And in the middle of them all was Sherlock. Of course.

John put his head in his hands and groaned.

He ignored when Sherlock chittered and pointed at the squirrel on their knee excitedly.

 

 

~ - - - - ~

 

 

Drip. Fizz.

Colors, smells, all so different from their home planet.

“Sherlock, how have I managed to _magically_ lose yet another paycheck? And how have you _magically_ managed to gain yet another test tube set?”

The alien looked at the human out of the corner of their eyes. They then rolled all six of them and turned back to their experiment. “Isn’t it obvious, John,” they replied in a perfect imitation of the human.

They could feel John’s temperature rising from across the room. “Sherlock, you are _not_ allowed to imitate my voice so you can buy bloody science equipment! You already have _twenty_ beakers!”

“Which are all occupied with experiments, therefore, I needed another one.”

John narrowly missed hitting them in the head with his shoe.

 

 

~ - - - - ~

 

 

“Sherlock, you brat! That is _not_ on! How dare you!”

Sherlock clenched their jaw and crossed their arms as Mrs. Hudson continued to yell at them.

When they could stand it no longer, they began to melt. First their feet, then their legs, making their way up to their head. Down, down they went, into a puddle of clear goop. They made sure to drip a bit on the landlady’s shoe.

If they still had a mouth, they would have grinned at her scream.

“Oh, I _hate_ it when they do that,” she shrieked as she shook the liquid off her shoe and stomped down the stairs.

John approached a second later, looking very cross as he put his hands on his hips.

“Sherlock, that was not good at all. Just because you don’t want to do something, doesn’t mean you can melt into a mound of goo. Now, go apologize to her.”

The puddle only gurgled in defiance.

“Sherlock, I will _pour_ you down the sink if you don’t go down there this instant!”

The puddle gurgled and popped some more, then slowly slinked across the room and dripped down the steps.

 

 

~ - - - - ~

 

 

John woke with a gasp. He squeezed his eyes shut and couldn’t stop the sob from clawing its way out of his lungs. He wrapped his arms around himself, curled into a ball. Shook and cried as quietly as he could.

 

A moment later, he felt a body press up against his back, an arm snake around him. He let out a tiny cry and rolled over to meet them, squashing his nose against their neck.

He tried to calm down, tried to act like a man, but being held like a child only made him cry harder.

He could feel more than hear Sherlock’s purring.

He opened his eyes to see it begin.

 

Pinks, blues, yellows, every color imaginable burst across the alien’s skin as they started to glow in the darkness. Galaxies swirled across their chest. Constellations danced up and down their sides. Planets rotated around the hearts hidden beneath their ribcage. Stars twinkled along their neck, shooting across light-years of flesh to collide into supernova.

A universe all etched in skin.

 

John watched, felt his tremors die down. His pulse slow. His sobs fall quiet.

He reached up and touched the nebula in front of him, followed its spirals with his fingertips. Rest his palm against the three beating hearts. Felt sleep drag him under once again.

 

Sherlock never let him go.


End file.
